Evolution
by KristinaW
Summary: Someone once said that it was unwise to judge a man's choices if you didn't understand his reasons. A new invention allows Bulma to learn more about the Saiyan Prince than she ever could have fathomed. What she discovers will change both of them forever. Set in the famous three years as an exploration of history and a new take on how this couple came to be. Rated T now, M later on.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

 **Author's Note: I was inspired by the song "Evolution" by my favorite band, Korn. It seemed so perfectly "Vegeta." This story is set in the infamous "3 years" and delves deeply into Vegeta's history. I know I'm not alone in feeling that there had to be more substance to his and Bulma's random hookup. This is my take on it.**

 **This story is complete and will be released as I finalize editing to each chapter. Rated T currently but will change to M in a future chapter.**

I'm diggin' with my fingertips  
I'm ripping at the ground I stand upon  
I'm searchin' for fragile bones  
(Evolution)

I'm never gonna be refined  
Keep tryin' but I won't assimilate  
Sure, we have come far in time  
(Watch the bow break)

And I'm sorry I don't believe  
By the evidence that I see  
That there's any hope left for me  
It's evolution...  
Just evolution...

And I, I do not dare deny  
The basic beast inside  
It's right here, it's controlling my mind  
And why do I deserve to die?  
I'm dominated by  
This animal that's locked up inside...

Close up to get a real good view  
I'm betting that the species will survive  
Hold tight, I'm getting inside you  
(Evolution)

And when we're gonna find these bones  
They're gonna wanna keep them in a jar  
The number one virus caused by  
(Procreation)

And the planet may go astray  
In a million years they'll say,  
Those motherfuckers were all deranged  
It's evolution...  
Just evolution...

And I, I do not dare deny  
The basic beast inside  
It's right here, it's controlling my mind  
And why do I deserve to die?  
I'm dominated by  
This animal that's locked up inside...

The ground beneath her feet moved before Bulma heard a thing. A single pen rolled of its own accord from her desktop, clattering to the floor and spinning at her feet. The floor of the Capsule Corp laboratory shuddered like a crescendo, evolving from a soft vibration to a full, thrumming, quaking drone. Bulma dove under her desk and barely covered her ears in time for the large, thundering BOOM that filled the space as if it were some corporeal thing right inside the lab and not, as she already knew, outside … approximately a few yards from her home. The lab rattled and juddered for what seemed like ages, dust and debris raining from the ceiling and the floor cracking like a line of lighting streaking through the sky. The door frames buckled, expensive glass beakers and bottles shattered, and bits and pieces of metal from projects all around the room clattered all around her like an out of tune orchestra.

The quaking slowed and the room stilled, save for the resounding cymbals of metal clinging to their last echoes and ringing in Bulma's ears. Crawling out from the safety of her desk, which thankfully she had reinforced - among other things - Bulma unsteadily stood and took stock of the room. She'd taken notes from previous incidents and learned from her mistakes. The soldered desk, for example, was a necessity for shelter. She was happy to see that the walls stayed erect this time. She could have kicked herself, though, for leaving her projects out so lazily. Not that she'd expected Vegeta to blow up the gravity chamber for oh, the millionth time. Who was counting? Because the cataclysmic event wasn't an earthquake, or an apocalyptic attack on the Earth itself. No. It was caused by the royal pain in her side.

Bulma's hands clenched into fists, her shoulders quaking almost as strongly as the room had been mere seconds ago. The temper-controlling counting exercises her mom had suggested escaped her. "VEGETA!" she screamed, taking off at a run out of the crumbling laboratory door. Dr. and Mrs. Briefs, who were indifferently surveying the damage in the hall, quickly stepped aside as Bulma charged past.

"Oh, don't be too hard on him, dear!" Mrs. Briefs called after her daughter, flapping a hand nonchalantly.

"That was quite a force, eh?" Dr. Brief elbowed his wife with laughing eyes. "We're quite lucky the house is still standing."

"It'll be so much fun shopping and redecorating!" Mrs. Brief clapped her hands excitedly.

Bulma wasn't as excited as she flung open the front door and marched in the direction of the billowing plume of thick, black smoke. He destroyed it. Again. The thing she had to repair for him, over and over, simply because he demanded it. The chamber that was an incredible invention yet so frivolously eradicated at the hands of the most ungrateful and undeserving man she'd ever met. A so-called prince, no less, who wouldn't even know how to act like a prince if he'd gone to charm school. She could hear him now: _What are you standing around waiting for, woman? Fix it. Don't keep me waiting._ Blah blah blah, Prince of all Saiyans, blah, blah, I must surpass Kakarot, blah. Never a thank you, never any kind of appreciation for her diligence, intelligence, and ingenuity. But the minute she dared to work on something _else,_ wouldn't you know it, just happened to be day to destroy the chamber _for the millionth time._

Bulma already had her mind set as she approached the chamber's rubble. Gods forbid if Vegeta rose from the wreckage like the first time, barely alive and denying the need for anyone's help, least of all from _her._ It gnawed at her how he resisted any sort of kindness, even when laying in her arms and bleeding profusely. She'd humbled herself and begged him to rest, to heal, to allow her to help him regain his strength… which he surprisingly did for about a day. Only for him to reenter the newly repaired gravity chamber before his bandages were even ready to be removed.

 _He won't need bandages this time after I get through with him_ … Bulma seethed, the remains of the chamber crackling beneath her boots. There he was, Mr. "Prince of all Saiyans," miraculously standing amid the devastation he wreaked upon the chamber. His back was to her, but by the way his shoulders heaved with each heavy, dragging breath, she had a feeling he was grimacing in pain. Judging by the way those same shoulders tensed and his fists balled at his sides, she knew he'd sensed her approach, possibly even bracing himself for the all-out war that was sure to ensue between them. Bulma's mouth opened, a list of obscenities just dancing on her tongue and begging for release, but her breath escaped her. It wasn't a particularly unusual sight for him and nothing she hadn't seen before, the blood running rivers along his taut muscles and his bodysuit tattered and hanging in shreds. It was what Bulma herself could sense… She'd been around him for so long, now. She'd picked up on his moods and his triggers. She knew when he needed to be left alone and how far she could go with teasing or nagging him. She knew how much she could help him before his pride cut what few ties she managed to forge with him. Today, at that very moment when she wanted nothing more than to go tit for tat and scream at him, Bulma couldn't sense his anger. She couldn't feel his energy roiling beneath the surface, or what little of it he had after the explosion. His stature was unsteady and his balled-up fists released at his sides. Vegeta tilted his face upward to the Heavens. It was the most defeated Bulma had ever seen him.

With caution and all the restraint she could muster, Bulma approached his side, peering up at Vegeta warily. His eyes didn't turn to her, didn't acknowledge her presence. Was he avoiding the argument? Was he in shock? Had he finally, completely lost it? Never moving her eyes from his upturned face, Bulma guardedly reached to pinch his arm…

"Woman."

Ok, so he was still on planet Earth, or as much as he could be, anyway. That one word was a warning, an admonition that somehow sounded so lost. Normally, she would correct him as she always did, insisting he speak her name even though the word had become somewhat of a term of endearment. Every other woman was a harpy, or a shrew, or some other disrepute. Bulma had to admit that she liked it, yet the strong woman within her insisted upon defying it at all times.

Still, he wasn't getting off that easily.

Bulma pulled a capsule from her pocket, detonating it to reveal a first aid kit. After so many explosions and near death experiences, it seemed pretty astute and handy to keep at least a few on her person regularly. With a quick yet discerning eye, Bulma picked the deepest of lacerations on his bicep to begin bandaging. She thanked Kami inwardly that he didn't resist, and when Vegeta's eyes finally turned to her, Bulma forced her expression to remain stern and disapproving beneath his gaze.

"You broke my chamber… again!?" Bulma seethed, giving the wrap a hearty yank each go around. Vegeta grimaced, opening his mouth to speak and to undoubtedly spew an insult, but Bulma interrupted him. "No! I don't want to hear it! You're _not_ going to tell me my work is worthless, you're _not_ going to tell me to fix the damned thing, and you most definitely WON'T tell me about your failing endeavor to surpass _Kakarot_." She spat out Goku's alter ego in a condescending tone that rivaled Vegeta's own, and had she allowed herself to look up from his arm, she'd have seen just how successful she was in shutting Vegeta up. He glowered down at her, his eyes slivers and jaw tense. She had called him a failure. She might as well have sacrificed him to the Gods. Bulma wordlessly plucked a new, fresh bandage from her kit and moved to the wound at his torso. Despite instructing him not to, she waited for him to respond, her arms circling his waist as it wound the bandage around and around.

Hearing nothing, Bulma pushed the guilt of her words aside but softened her tone. "How could you possibly break my chamber again," Bulma repeated in a mutter after a deep, tired sigh. She had reinforced the machine so thoroughly, upgrading it with new alloys and everything. It was all she could muster not to fly off the handle at her own failure. Something about Vegeta's demeanor concerned her, though, because _he_ wasn't flying off the handle. He wasn't spouting obscenities over the limitations of the chamber, nor the insolence or lack of ability on her part to create an indestructible machine. He wasn't belittling her knowledge, nor going off on one of his tirades about surpassing Kakarot. With his perpetually furrowed brow, Vegeta simply watched Bulma's meticulous hands work. She didn't dare take a moment to appreciate his lack of resistance to her help, for she feared it was fleeting. Typically he'd have to be out cold before she could bandage him, let alone do so while he stood awake and observing. Her hands smoothed out a rumpled wrap along his side. Her breath caught in her throat, his skin trembling beneath her palm as it slid across his abdomen. He was holding it together, probably more than even he thought possible. She wondered how long it'd take before his legs gave out.

Giving the last bandage a firm tug and eliciting one last wince from the proud Saiyan, she tied it off and surveyed her work. Sure enough, Vegeta instantly stepped away from her with one hand wrapping around his waist where she had just finished dressing. "Leave me be, woman." His voice was hoarse and not as insistent as it usually was. Even more surprisingly, he didn't turn his back to her to shut her out, as he typically would. Bulma's anger over her destroyed gravity chamber was still fresh, but in that moment, she felt as if the Vegeta she had come to know wasn't even there. She had been so ready and willing for a battle of wills with her _house guest,_ but now, in Vegeta's place stood a defeated shell, begging for mercy in the wake of his pride.

What had gotten into him?

 **Author's Note: What, no fighting? Lame! What's his deal? Stay tuned for Chapter Two, coming soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

 **Author's Note: The plot thickens! :D**

 **This story is complete and will be released as I finalize editing to each chapter. Rated T currently but will change to M in a future chapter.**

"So how is the young man doing?"

Dr. Brief's question jarred Bulma out of her concentration, her eyes glued to the window. The first few hours of the destruction's aftermath didn't get to her. She pushed the thought of the work that lay ahead of her from her mind and allowed herself to simply stew over the savagery of their guest. By the third hour, she had moved the component she'd been working on to the upstairs study, which coincidentally had a window looking out to where the gravity chamber once stood. By the fifth hour, she'd forgotten her work on the component and lost herself in glaring out the window. Vegeta had not moved. He stood in the exact same spot she'd left him, staring up into the sky.

"He's being a stubborn ass, that's how he's doing." Bulma was convinced: he had to be doing this to defy her. He knew, just like every other time, that he needed to rest. His pride was just so strong. Bandages were one thing, but hospital beds seemed to completely emasculate him. Even stranger, though, was that he refused to sit. Bulma had felt him trembling beneath her touch, using every last ounce of strength he had to remain standing. It hadn't dawned on her at the time to ask _how_ he'd destroyed the chamber; she merely assumed it was a rogue energy ball or something of the sort. It just seemed strange to her, the thought that Vegeta could have been distracted or so frivolously allowed an attack to run errant… especially when the purpose was to make him stronger. She had watched him train before - those energy balls were either destroyed or absorbed. So, she couldn't figure out how, for the life of her, this kept happening.

"Hmm. Sounds like someone I know." Dr. Brief grinned thoughtfully, turning to leave the room his beloved daughter occupied. "Dinner's on the table."

Bulma rolled her eyes at her father's teasing. Yes, she was stubborn. She was a strong willed woman - how could she not be? But to draw lines between her and the raging beast known as Vegeta, well… she felt that was a bit of a stretch. Bulma had hopes and dreams and ambition. Vegeta was hell-bent on war and destruction. His entire life revolved around getting stronger for sake of destroying others. There was no good, inherent purpose within him, and she wondered what'd he'd do if he ever _did_ surpass Goku. After helping their team and saving their lives, would he be like the dog that finally catches the car? Would he even know what to do with himself? Would he be satisfied with merely one-upping Earth's greatest hero, or would he…

Bulma shook the thought from her mind. She couldn't fathom the idea that this man, whom she wholeheartedly accepted into her home regardless of his past and his annoying faults, would be so heartless. Despite her inner monologue that told her otherwise, Bulma knew that the gut instinct she'd had the moment she'd invited Vegeta to stay, was right. That being said, there was no better time than the present to prove herself right.

The sun was setting by the time Bulma made it outside, carrying a steaming bowl of delicious ramen she prepared as a peace offering. It was a far cry from her mother's cooking, sure, but it was still every Saiyan's favorite food… at least the ones that she knew. And if she knew a Saiyan - and dammit, she surely knew them well - Vegeta wouldn't be able to resist food of any sort.

To Bulma's disappointment, when she reached his side, he didn't even look her way. He simply continued to stare into the sky, bands of yellow, pink, purple, and indigo melding into the horizon. The last rays of light dipped beneath the Earth and a spattering of stars awoke above, their dim glitter growing in strength as each minute passed without sunlight. It was an absolute luxury of planet Earth, to partake in such a beautiful nightly ritual. How perfect was the nighttime, offering renewal and new beginnings every twenty-four hours.

Vegeta's unexpected voice made her jump. "I have not yet reached Super Saiyan."

Bulma's eyes rolled. She set the bowl on the ground, incredulous that it was going unnoticed. "Yeah, yeah, I know what you're going to say. You need to be stronger than Goku, you need the room fixed, I get it." She knew her voice was condescending, and in all honesty, she intended for it to be. This calm, emotionless version of Vegeta worried her. True, his emotions were usually limited to anger and driven by ego, but still, this current Vegeta was unnerving. His expression was one of doubt, as if he didn't know where he went wrong. The sort of doubt that would eat away at a man, and was not typically found in such a cocky and proud alien as Vegeta.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to fail your planet? Your people?"

His question drowned her in guilt, recalling how she'd pointed out his failure earlier in the day. She often forgot that Vegeta, and Goku for that matter, was of an entirely different race than human. She also suddenly understood why he was so intent on the sky. It wasn't the birds, or the beautifully cloudless blanket of stars. One night just weeks ago, Bulma had been tracking the constellations and planets for a new project that had fallen into her lap. During one of the rare meal breaks Vegeta took outside of the gravity room, he had, of course, badgered her for staring up at the unendingly dark sky with feeble and unseeing human eyes. After a round or two of bickering, Vegeta had grown quiet, joining her in her observation of the Heavens. He even asked her to point out specific coordinates. Obliging and intrigued by his sudden interest in her project, Bulma mapped it with her telescope and, pointing it out, offered Vegeta to take a look. He refused and simply stared for a moment in the direction she had pointed, then returned to the chamber, forgetting his meal. She'd shrugged off his odd behavior and took a look for herself, only to find nothing at the coordinates he'd designated. She continued her project only for it to gain a new purpose. Dr. Briefs had teased her for focusing so intently on mapping what had already, historically, been mapped. She remembered telling him, "Sometimes it's not about looking for what's there, but rather, for what _isn't._ "

Now, following his line of sight upward, Bulma realized she was looking toward the same coordinates they had plotted the other night. Vegeta's words, his declaration of having failed his nonexistent planet, dawned on her: they were looking at where Planet Vegeta used to be.

Vegeta continued, his rough voice disrupting her thoughts. "I wasn't able to stop Frieza from destroying it. I could not protect my own planet, my own race."

This time, his eyes were intense, as if he were painstakingly reviewing every move he'd made, every step he'd taken since the day his planet was lost. "Now, I cannot avenge it. It is not solely for sake of beating Kakarot, who has forgotten his home and has chosen a new one. Kakarot, who took my vengeance from me and did what I could not. It is that I, alone, seek to avenge our people who died for nothing."

It wasn't often Bulma couldn't find the words. It had never occurred to her that Vegeta would feel shame or loneliness. She knew he was proud and that he felt strongly for his home that had been taken from him, but she never took the time to look past the inherent pride someone who claims to be royalty would obligatorily possess. Vegeta's pride always seemed so self-centered, as if his singular purpose of surpassing Goku was for his ego alone. After all, the prince of a race _should_ be unquestionably superior. He never admitted defeat so readily, nor admitted that he fought for anyone other than himself. His people, although beneath him, were still Saiyans.

"You were just a child. And then… then, you had a hand in Frieza's defeat. You may not have dealt the finishing blow, but… Your people would have been proud of you."

Vegeta growled, rejecting her praise and looking away so that his face fell into shadow. It was so unlike him, to watch his pride crumble. For him to be vulnerable. It was a rarity for him to show such vulnerability, let alone admit failure. A twinge of pain made her heart flutter, feeling immediately broken for the prince.

"So how did you do it? Break the chamber?"

It was so quiet between them that Bulma could hear the deep breath Vegeta drew, finally showing his exhaustion. He was visibly reluctant to have to explain himself, something he tended to do only when taunting a foe in battle. As he spoke, he seemed to be more so working it out for himself than answering her question. "There is only so much power one can sustain without reducing himself to dust. If that burden is removed, that restraint, there is nothing to stop me from unleashing my full power."

Bulma froze, his words tumbling around like pieces to a puzzle she did not want to solve. If he truly intended to 'remove the burden,' he could only mean doing one thing. "You were practicing… how to self-destruct?"

"When the time comes and a new evil reveals itself, I will be the one to vanquish it."

It was clear to Bulma, now, what had evolved in Vegeta. His narrow minded purpose wasn't as narrow as it had originally seemed. "No." The sternness and desperation in Bulma's voice surprised even her. "You can't just sacrifice yourself like that. You're giving yourself a death sentence with, what, some newly acquired suicide complex?"

Vegeta gritted his teeth at her, a growl rumbling from his throat. "Is that not what you want, woman? Your planet saved?"

"You're _needed_ here, Vegeta!" Bulma's heated interjection caught the warrior off guard. His mouth clamped shut and his eyes instantly began studying the tiny blue-haired spitfire. She could feel his eyes burning through her, daring her to defy him, to command him in a way he would never again allow someone to do. Not after Frieza. It slowly became evident to Bulma that she had fisted her hand in the tattered remains of his bodysuit, a submission-enforcing gesture of which he was familiar but nowhere near accepting. Bulma was painfully aware that the predicament she'd gotten herself in could easily result in her demise, standing toe-to-toe with a man who knew no mercy or self-control.

And yet, he showed it, through gritted teeth and a gravelly voice that rumbled through his chest. She could feel his words vibrating beneath her fists, the energy around them crackling. "I am not needed, except to be a vessel of destruction. My blood is of a warrior race, born and bred for war. I have no other purpose. You should be thanking me."

Bulma released his shirt and the hot, pressurized air that was just beginning to churn around them, instantly settled. "You… could have a different purpose." Vegeta instantly took a step back, away from her and her verbal peace treaty. She had struck a nerve in him. She had opened the door to a new opportunity, something he never would have considered nor had any reason to believe would be an option. " _This_ could be your home. _These_ could be your people. You don't have to have a title, or reign, or whatever nonsense that goes along with it. Don't you see? This is where your strength lies, when you put others before yourself."

Vegeta crossed his arms and stared at her quizzically, as if she'd gone mad. Shaking her head at how dense this supposed and self-proclaimed 'superior being' could be, Bulma marched to the center of the gravity chamber's pile of debris with a flourish of her arms. "All of this - you've reduced it to something even _I_ can't salvage. Not like the other times. Why do you think that is? What was on your mind as you practiced your self-destruct?" Crossing his arms, Vegeta looked to their feet, the warped metal and shattered glass and the solid foundation reduced to grit, all a myriad of twisted wreckage. Bulma saw the realization flood over his features. "You thought of someone other than yourself. You thought of your people, and so, you realized a power within you that you never had before. You brought yourself one step closer to Super Saiyan."

Vegeta's arms fell back to his sides and his deep, black eyes surveyed the debris as if he hadn't truly seen it until then. When his eyes returned to hers, she gulped. Yes, she'd watched him from afar, had stared him down, and even been a hair's width away from him, but never since the day she'd met the warrior prince had she looked so deeply into those eyes that had seen too much. She recalled him stalking her on Namek when she'd taken one of the dragon balls, his eyes blazing red and lusting for her head on a stake. Now, they showed something almost alien, coming from him. They showed a depth he would never readily reveal of himself.

"What I've told you, woman… If you breathe one word, it will be your last, I swear it."

Bulma rolled her eyes, closing the gap between them. All fear of his volatility had escaped her, and it was a relief to hear the pride return to his voice. "I have something to show you."

It took Bulma just a minute to retrieve a capsule container and the component she'd been working on earlier. Unsurprisingly, Vegeta had waited in the same spot she'd left him, once again staring off into the sky. This time, his resolve had returned to him, his stance strong. Her words had visibly struck him and Bulma couldn't help but smile.

"Heads up!" Bulma shouted before throwing a capsule into the ground, detonating it. Vegeta darted into the air just as a large, stadium sized structure appeared out of nowhere. Fully constructed, the stadium commanded an acre of the Brief's property and reached as high as the hilltops. It adorned no windows and only one door, a keypad and console at its center. Bulma stood proudly, hands on her hips and breathless at its enormity. It was easily the largest construction she had capsulized to date.

Vegeta landed noiselessly beside her, his arms crossed and interest piqued, so Bulma answered the question that was undoubtedly running through his head. "Remember that project I was working on? You didn't want to tell me what those coordinates were for, so I figured it out for myself." Bulma trotted to the single door of the stadium, taking the hard drive she had completed earlier that day and guiding it into an available slot on the console. The screen above it sprung to life and Bulma tapped in the coordinates Vegeta had previously designated. Looking back to Vegeta expectantly, Bulma waived for him to follow her. The door slid open, revealing absolute, intimidating darkness within. It seemed suffocating as they entered - the kind of darkness that drowned out every ounce of light. No walls or ceilings could be seen, let alone anything farther than a foot in front of their faces. If it weren't for the brush of her arm against his, Bulma wouldn't have even been sure that Vegeta joined her inside as the doors slid shut behind her.

"What is this nonsense?"

"Just wait for it."

It was above them that the first light glimmered to life: deep, red warmth that spread like spilled ink. The light gained speed as it met the horizon, rocky terrain sprouting into existence and green foliage reaching for the pink clouds and flushed sky. Far off in the distance, metallic buildings sprouted from stone faces of mountain-esque hills. The finale, Bulma's favorite touch, was the blue, luminous orb that floated alongside the moons in the projected Heavens. It was the perfect image of Earth, the yin to the red planet's yang.

For several minutes, Bulma hadn't dared to peek at Vegeta's reaction. Planet Vegeta sprawled out before him in all of its grandeur. She knew that there was a time that the planet had been battle-ridden, wasted with destruction from a civil war between Saiyans and another race, only then to be eradicated by Frieza's hand. But there was also a time when it was beautiful, a marriage of natural simplicity and technological evolution. The image Bulma had of Planet Vegeta was limited to what Raditz and King Kai had said, let alone what little Vegeta had revealed about his home planet. She had tapped Krillen and the others who had used the spiritual time traveling Pendulum Room at Kami's Lookout for more information. There wasn't much else listed in the astronomical registries she reviewed, but for what she knew, Bulma thought her reality was spot on. Judging by Vegeta's wide eyed expression, his lips parted in awe, any doubt she had flew out the window.

It felt like ages before Vegeta stepped forward, his boots crunching in the hard, textured soil. The sound drew his attention, eliciting another slow step forward. It was bewildering him, obviously, that it felt so real. Bulma wished she could make it real for him.

"I'm surprised at you, woman."

Bulma's eyebrows shot upward. "Excuse me?!" His arrogance rocketed right back to him, touching a nerve on Bulma.

"You've invented a gravity room. Created this… façade. How have you not thought to combine them? I imagine the training potential in such a creation would be limitless."

Bulma rolled her eyes. Of course his first instinct would be to evaluate this amazing gift - viewing his now extinct home planet in a way he would never have been able to - and think of nothing but training. Still, he had a point, and it piqued her interest.

"Why did you bring me here?"

His voice was strained, and he had yet to tear his discerning gaze away from the marvel before him. Bulma knew he wouldn't accept such an open gesture of _simply gifting_ him something others could only dream of… But there was something else she had in mind.

"I want you to help me write the history of your planet. The people of Earth deserve to know who their protector is, where he came from…"

Vegeta finally turned toward her, his expression seething. "You continue to insist upon this being my purpose, protecting your retched, inferior planet. I do not belong here, woman."

His answer did not surprise her, if she were being honest with herself. She was being kind to him, and not only did he know it, but he rejected it. Was he so far gone that he couldn't even accept basic kindness? She openly respected and praised him, and claimed that the entire population of Earth joined her in their veneration. Was it not acceptable unless they were on their knees, begging for mercy? Bulma fumed. "I understand, I honestly do. But his _is_ your home. These are your people now. Yes, you need to carry on the name of your race, and never let it die. It's the honorable thing to do. But you have new lives to protect. You've already proven your worth. You saved Gohan. You helped to bring down Frieza. You searched for Goku. You are training to fight alongside him for the next threat that may come. You may not like it, but you are Earth's solider, and without you, where would we be?"

Vegeta was visibly struck by her monologue, but Bulma could not distinguish whether it was disgust or realization. "I served as someone else's soldier before. I knelt before the creature that took everything from me. I will never kneel or serve as someone else's indentured warrior again." His growling voice chilled Bulma to the core. "I protect this retched planet for _one_ life. My own."

 **Author's Note: There's the Vegeta we know and love! What might come of writing and, more interestingly,** ** _reliving_** **Saiyan history? Scary things, sad things, and a whole lot of stuff, that's what! Chapter Three, coming soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Hi again! Thank you to those of you who have so graciously read and reviewed my story so far! To answer your questions, yes, the bare bones of this story IS finished. I am posting them sequentially after editing (I am strict on running through and editing each chapter several times to check for content, spelling/grammatical/syntactical errors, etc.).**

 **PLEASE review and let me know what you think – another thing I do with each edit is take into consideration what you think, and adjust as I go, if need be.**

 **If this story is liked, I already have an idea for a sequel that I'd like to begin working on. In fact, I have an entire series whirling around in my head that naturally progresses along the timeline we know and love. Let me know what you think! :D**

 **Things start to get pretty interesting in this chapter as we explore the chamber/planet. Hold on to your pantaloons! :D**

 **oOo**

 **Chapter Three**

Bulma tossed and turned for hours. It was nearly midnight by the time she'd finally made it to her bed, and after futile attempts at sleep, she was up at daybreak and in her lab. The repair bots had done a more-than-decent job of reconstructing her lab. The walls showed no signs of repair, the floor was spotless, and even her damaged projects were back on their respective stands, just waiting for her to resume tinkering away. They would have to wait, however, because Bulma had had Vegeta's words on her mind every waking moment of that sleepless night. She was no longer angry at his observation, that as smart as she was, she hadn't thought of combining her two creations. Instead, she was determined to show the cocky Saiyan just what she could do, and more.

Bulma sat the capsule box that had held the stadium capsule onto her clean work table, retrieving two more cases that were stored away in a tall metal shelving unit in the corner of the lab. The stadium's duplicate hard drive - because disaster recovery was _always_ a priority in that particular household - and a scouter case joined the capsule container, Bulma's careful hands removing the scouter from its foam molded holder. These things had been terrifying when she first saw them, with their ability to lead serious baddies right to her and her fearless hero friends. Now, she needed to create a link between them and the hard drive - simple enough. The internal chip would need not much more than a transmission and receiving mechanism between the two components. Then, she could use the analyzing capabilities it already contained to analyze brain waves rather than energy fluctuations. The hard drive itself would be the tricky part. Bulma retrieved one final component: one of the several backup drives that she used for the countless gravity chambers she'd created. Its capabilities to generate physical forms would be just what she needed to transfer to the virtual reality hard drive and give it a boost in capabilities. It would work perfectly… she just needed a certain someone to test it out.

The aroma of a full, hearty breakfast permeated the lab just as Bulma finished her work. _What timing,_ she thought, her stomach grumbling. Packing up her components, Bulma joined Dr. and Mrs. Briefs in the kitchen, which was already filled with mountains of food, the majority of which meant for Vegeta, as usual.

"Good morning dear!" Mrs. Brief's voice sung out to her as she flipped a dozen more pancakes onto a platter. "Do you know if sweet Vegeta will be joining us this morning?"

Bulma frowned. "I thought he would have been in by now, he hasn't eaten a thing lately as far as I know."

"I brought all of this deliciousness out to the gravity room for him, but it wasn't there," Mrs. Briefs continued, obliviously. She set a plate for Bulma at the table which she happily began scarfing. "There was a new, rather large building though. Are we expecting more guests?"

Bulma shook her head, annoyed with their _current_ guest's stubbornness. She knew that _he_ knew how important it was to rest, keep his strength up, and to eat, for crying out loud. It wasn't like him to refuse a meal.

Excusing herself after one last bite of pancake, Bulma headed back out to the VR chamber. Sure enough, the active lights were still blinking and flashing, the virtual reality she had triggered still engaged within. Bulma slid the second, newly tweaked hard drive into an available slot and entered the stadium, searching the landscape. Vegeta was nowhere to be found amid the open, unoccupied expanse of land. The single door leading to the outside floated behind her, attached to nothing and freestanding like a portal to another dimension. The rock-strewn valley climbed upward at either side of her, grassy plains topping mountainous hills that reached high into the red sky.

"Vegeta?" Bulma called out for him. He had to be there, somewhere… or could he have left? Was the vulnerability he had revealed to her last night too much for him to face this morning? Bulma's questions were answered when the hairs on her neck prickled, raised by the feeling of not being alone. Sure enough, the crackling of rock falling away from a stony façade drew her eyes toward the sky where the glimmering of an aura appeared. Vegeta propelled himself away from the hilltop, effortlessly landing just feet away from where she stood. He had not changed out of his tattered bodysuit, the white bandages that were now stained to match his planet's sky peeking through the torn fabric. He hadn't left the chamber all night long. He stared at her expectantly, but had no words for her. It reminded her of the day he had returned in the ship on her property and had so willingly followed her order to take a shower. It was strange, how he was so commanding himself and so resistant to commands from others, would vocally defy her requests, yet still follow them...

Something inside her wanted to reward his pride. "I did what you asked." She was met with a confused frown, so she opened the container to reveal the scouter and gestured for him to take it. Of course, he refused.

"What would I need this for? I no longer require it to sense energy."

"Silly, that's not what it's for." Bulma grinned proudly. "I've reconstructed its purpose. It goes along with the new hard drive I installed for this." She gestured around her to the virtual environment surrounding them. It was still awe inspiring, even to herself, what her hands and intellect could create when pushed to her limits. It was quite akin to the limits her comrades pushed themselves to, and Bulma wasn't humble in asserting that her contributions were just as important as their journeys toward increased strength. "It'll bring this place to life, so we can preserve its history. When you wear the scouter, it'll materialize what you envision. What you envision will be recorded within the link between the scouter and the updated hard drive. Just an added bonus to this new training environment."

Vegeta's eyes lit up at her proclamation of 'new training environment.' Yes, it would be easy enough to just dictate Vegeta's memories into a book or computer, but the opportunity to create this living world from their thoughts was enticing. The incorporation of the virtual reality with the gravity training room would create endless training modules, just as Vegeta had suggested, but with more than even he could imagine. Bulma's creation would allow for any terrain, any enemy, any battle to be created through whomever wore the scouter. Any amount of opposing strength could be materialized within the opponent. Any possible instance that could be imagined, in turn could be generated.

Most of all, she hoped it would help Vegeta find peace with his past.

The Saiyan in question was still reluctant to take the scouter, so Bulma removed it from its case. "Nothing to be scared of, ya know."

Vegeta sneered at her prodding and snatched the scouter from her hand. Inspecting it and visibly disgusted with the contraption, he affixed to his ear, the familiar red shield covering his eye. As the frequency registered with his brain waves, the scouter sprung to life. The shield glimmering with codes scanning along its surface. Within seconds, the coding vanished, and the scouter was still.

"It's registered and ready." Bulma grinned and winked at Vegeta. "Let's see what it can do!" Vegeta smirked in response, ready to play her game.

"Shall we begin with correcting your error?"

"My what?" hands fisted at her hips, Bulma scowled at the cocky Saiyan. Her shoulders instantly sagged, the air around her suddenly suffocating. Just as she felt gravity nearly catapult her face-first into the rough, solid terrain of the pseudo-planet, Vegeta's vice-like arm snaked itself around her waist and pressed her body to his. She clutched at him, whimpering and burying her face into his chest – through no fault of her own – with the weight of the gravity shift.

"Did you not know that my planet's gravity is much stronger than Earth's?"

Bulma couldn't move, frustrated tears springing to her eyes. He was being so heartless, knowing the pain this gravity shift would cause her. It felt as if her entire body was being compressed, her temples throbbing and her lungs burning despite the abundance of oxygen within the room. Was this punishment for forcing emotion out of him?

Just as quickly as the gravity increased, Bulma felt it lift, her lungs gasping for air. Vegeta released her and she fell to her knees, her hands grasping her heaving chest. Hot, angry tears spilled down her cheeks as she grasped a handful of rocks and dirt and blindly flung them at Vegeta. He allowed them to hit him when he could have easily dodged, his smirk disappearing. To her surprise, he settled beside her, sitting with one knee raised and his elbow resting upon it.

"What do you want to know?"

He was sorry. Bulma couldn't believe it. But then, she had antagonized him, was trying to force him to do something that surely made him uncomfortable. She was expecting a lot from a man who typically gave nothing. She brushed off her knees as she settled into a comfortable sitting position beside the prince, figuring that maybe they could call it even. "Start from the beginning."

Vegeta frowned and looked off in the distance toward the apex of where the hills met. The flushed sky graduated from a deep, blood red to a soft pink that matched the few stratospheric clouds the closer it drew to the horizon. The ground trembled beneath Bulma's palms as a colony materialized far away in the center of that apex, tall, white pillars reaching into the sky with antennae adorning their roofs. A sense of excitement and success flooded Bulma as Vegeta's memories corporealized before them.

"This has been referred to as our birthplace, but we came upon this planet long before I was born. Another race inhabited it." Bulma's stomach clenched, recalling Vegeta's past pension of succeeding and destroying planets. She knew the bloody history of the civil war from what King Kai had told them, and it was terrible.

Vegeta continued. "It was perfect. A higher level of gravity, and peace. The other inhabitants allowed the Saiyans to reside here in exchange for their help. They were intelligent and scientific, like you."

Bulma blushed at his complement that she was sure he had inadvertently given, although Vegeta's face showed something else as he spoke of the natives of Planet Vegeta: disgust. "They needed us. Others coveted their advanced technology, and they were consistently attacked. Still, they were weak and tired of constantly defending themselves. They didn't use the gravity to their advantage like we Saiyans. They were stunted because of it. They needed protection, and the Saiyans offered it in exchange for refuge."

"Is that how you were able to obtain such innovative gear?" Bulma eyed the newly conceptualized scouter Vegeta wore.

He "hmph'd" a yes. "They equipped us with just enough to protect them. It all went to their heads. They knew of us long before Saiyans arrived on their planet and were arrogant, believing they had subjected the strongest race in the universe to do their bidding. It went on for years, their arrogance growing. My father was a loyal Saiyan soldier, and he detested the position those savages put his people in."

It was ironic to hear Vegeta call _another_ race 'savages' _,_ especially one that consisted of beings weaker than himself and his self-proclaimed superior people. "He destroyed them?"

"He offered them unity," Vegeta spat, offended by her judgment. "They refused, and they made their choices."

The story King Kai had told Bulma's comrades more or less aligned with Vegeta's version, although unlike Vegeta's version, it had painted the natives of Planet Vegeta as innocent victims. As prideful as Vegeta was, there was no reason for Vegeta to lie to her now, with no inherent gain to be had from her knowing the truth. He had been resistant to the idea of scribing his and his planet's history, his surrender in telling it now suggesting a sense of futility in his opinion.

"They fought surprisingly well with their abundance of technology, but the strength of the Saiyans inevitably prevailed."

"And your father came into rule, then?" Confirming her assumption, the metropolis in the distance descended, its tall arches reducing into a darker, more condensed construction. At its center stood the tallest building of them all, a royal crest at its peak and piers at its corners. Surrounding it was a city still intact, but at its outskirts were ruins.

"The city wasn't the same once the natives were eradicated. We could not rebuild in the same way, and their destruction surrounded the main stronghold at the center of the city." The ground beneath their feet shifted, the untouched terrain morphing into a battleground of torn and littered remnants of war. Crumbled strongholds and bloodied trenches surrounded them, but the air was still and silent. The vision seemed incomplete, as if Vegeta's memory of it was not one he'd experienced himself, but rather heard secondhand. The stooping backs of several men in Saiyan armor materialized, bowing over mounds of rubble and dirt. At the forefront stood the most ornately dressed soldier, a blue and red cape billowing behind him. He was a mirror image of Vegeta save for the facial hair. While the others bowed, he knelt and prayed.

"What remained of them was buried in the battlefields in which they perished, returning them to their planet." The admirable actions of consecrating the fallen was unlike any Saiyan characterization Bulma had ever heard. It reminded her of Gohan's retelling of the events on Namek, when Goku buried Vegeta's body amidst their and Frieza's battleground – an apparently inherent Saiyan trait that Goku expressed out of instinct. But where the story of Goku's father, Bardock, was one of nobility and bravery, King Vegeta had been made out to be a tyrant. Seeing the shade of himself conducting the ritual of honoring the dead, even for those that became his enemy, was a story lost to everyone but Vegeta.

"My father's rule was just and honorable." Bulma's thoughts were somehow read by Vegeta, whose expression was confusing. He was undeniably proud of his father's dignified actions, but Bulma could see there was more to the story. "He was loved by his people. Especially by…"

The terrain of worn battle and graves faded away and they heard the voice before they saw anything. It floated on the breeze, the breathy whisper of a soldier's lullaby that surrounded them and grew in volume the quieter the two became. It was a woman's voice, singing a siren's song that echoed along the corridor of stone-faced hills. Vegeta looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

"… My mother."

 **oOo**

 **Author's Note: Momma Saiyan? Uh oh! What will she be like, what visions will she bring, and how will Vegeta handle what will inevitably be a heart-wrenching reunion? Stay tuned!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: This song is very special. I sing it to my own little ones and feel that it perfectly exemplifies not only the bond between Vegeta and his mother, but also the reality of their lives and culture. It's called "A Soldier's Lullaby."**

 **Chapter Four**

* * *

 ** _"May your dreams bring you peace in the darkness.  
May you always rise over the rain.  
May the light from above  
Always lead you to love.  
May you stay in the arms of the angels."_**

The song filled the air like a ghostly siren's song, resonating like a prayer in an empty temple. When the ethereal form of a woman flickered into existence, Bulma's mouth gaped open, mirroring Vegeta's own astonishment. It was the first time that she - or anyone for that matter - had ever heard of Vegeta's mother. He, of course, never mentioned her and no one knew a thing about her, let alone what she looked or sounded like. He kept that part of himself irretrievably locked away. Bulma glanced at Vegeta for confirmation, whose eyes were as wide as her own. He slowly rose to his feet, as if sudden movements would frighten the apparition away. The figure crept closer and as it did, its form grew more and more solid.

"What is this?" His voice was a mixture of repulsion and sadness, causing Bulma's stomach to drop. Though she knew there were sure to be painful moments from Vegeta's past that would come to light while codifying his history, she had not considered how he would react. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. But seeing the apparition of his mother and knowing it wasn't truly her, was visibly tearing him apart.

A soft smile splayed across the apparition's lips as she continued her song. As the words left her lips, a tiny bundle appeared in her arms _._

 ** _"May you always be brave in the shadows,  
'Til the sun shines upon you again.  
Hear this prayer in my heart,  
And we'll ne'er be apart.  
May you stay in the arms of the angels."_**

"It… was a song she would sing when my father would leave for battle. To quiet me. Or when I was..." He spoke, but it wasn't to Bulma. His sentence trailed and Bulma was sure that, had he not been so proud, he would have finished it with 'when I was scared.' It was more than that, but such a sentimental notion was difficult for him to share. It was deep rooted in his memories and unwillingly came forth - an evident source of comfort that must have come to his mind whenever he felt fear. Like the thought of his father not returning home. The soothing, dulcet tones of the lullaby was a prayer his mother said for husband and father alike, but more so, it was one she said for her son who was destined to follow in the warrior footsteps of his father.

The woman seemed incapable of paying any attention to anyone or anything but the cooing infant in her arms. Infatuated with the baby, she rocked and petted its face. She was a diminutive woman, barely five feet tall with delicate, porcelain features and long, raven hair that flowed over her shoulders like a silken curtain. Her red cape was held by golden broaches and circled just beneath her arms and collar bone, leaving her shoulders bare. Beneath the cape, a sleeveless, blue bodysuit hugged her slender but defined frame. An ornate but delicate crown that looked like golden wire twisted into vines wove through her hair and extended down the sides of her face in an intricate cascade of tendrils. Vegeta's mother was more beautiful than Bulma could ever have imagined. A calm sense of elegance and serenity emanated from her, a vision of peace and beauty as she sang.

The form of Vegeta's mother knelt before them, still oblivious to their presence. It occurred to Bulma that the vision was unable to interact with them unless Vegeta willed it to. But in his perplexed state, Vegeta was unable to fathom such a thing. Bulma wondered if he remembered much of his mother at all.

Vegeta couldn't will himself forward any further. His mother held his infant self out as if to stand him upright, and as the blanket that cradled him fell to the ground, the baby evolved into a young boy. His hair was just like Vegeta's currently, but with wispy fringes cascading over his forehead. His eyes were large and shining with innocence, but were the same dark, endless onyx Bulma had come to memorize. The same Saiyan armor that Vegeta wore presently adorned the boy in pint-sized form. He was small, like any other young boy, save for the already visible strength within him. He reminded her of Gohan, and she recalled how Vegeta said so often that Saiyans were born and bred as warriors from a very young age. He was the personified war-child, conditioned for his race's purpose yet still happy and naïve - his future still an untapped mystery.

Mother cupped her small son's chin in her hands, lovingly brushing his bangs away from his eyes and singing her prayer for him.

 ** _"May you hear every song in the forest.  
And if ever you lose your own way,  
Hear my voice like a breeze  
Whisper soft in the trees.  
May you stay in the arms of the angels."_**

A content smile on his face and his mother's hand in his, Young Vegeta bent to grasp the blanket at his feet. It morphed as it fluttered upward into a figure of a young girl similar in age. The girl, who stood just short of young Vegeta, had deep, black hair that matched her eyes and curled in ringlets past her shoulders. Her bangs were distinctively unkempt, fluttering out every which way. She wore a jumper that resembled Vegeta's armor, with the same golden shoulder straps, clasps, and belt, a white bodice with golden accents, and a blue bodysuit underneath. It was interesting to Bulma that the three shared such similar ensembles despite their very different rankings. The only difference Bulma could see was that the girl's bodysuit was made of basic cloth and extended into a skirt. The little ones pranced about, amusing Mother who covered her giggling lips. The cherubic girl rung her arms around young Vegeta's neck which he hastily shoved off, his cheeks blazing red. The girl settled for a peck on his cheek, prompting an embarrassed smile from her friend and an affectionate pet upon her head from Mother.

Bulma looked quizzically at Vegeta. She knew that Saiyans tended to look similar in nature, but… "I never knew you had a sister?"

Vegeta shook his head, finally acknowledging Bulma's presence yet still intent upon the frivolity of the children playing a game of tag before them. "They are the only creatures in this Gods-forsaken universe to have ever loved me. She's the daughter of Bardock and was born betrothed to me."

Her hands covering the gasp that escaped her lips, Bulma squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to force back the tear that threatened to shed. It was unfeasible to think Goku knew of his long lost older sister, who met the same demise of his father and the rest of his race. Not to mention the fact that she was arranged to marry Vegeta, a sign that Goku's family had not been as common as Vegeta always claimed. The sudden weight of that information fell upon her shoulders like an insufferable encumbrance. What would it do to Goku, if he knew?

"Mother…" Vegeta spoke, but it was no longer addressed to her or to entertain the room's recording. Bulma peeked through tear dampened lashes to see Vegeta mere feet away from his mother's form. The older woman's eyes finally saw him, her grin so wide that her cheeks were rosy apples beneath the glistening eyes of a mother endlessly proud of her son. Vegeta's head bowed as if he felt unworthy of her praising gaze. Decades had passed since the last time he saw her face or was able to speak the words he never could as a child. "Forgive me, mother. I am sorry, Kaila. That I was unable to protect either of you."

Catching him off guard, the apparition reached up to her son and cupped his cheek just as she'd done with his young self. Vegeta grasped her hand in his against his face as the last tones of her song left her lips.

 ** _"May you grow up to stand as a man, love.  
With the pride of your family and name.  
When you lay down your head for to rest in your bed,  
May you stay in the arms of the angels."_**

It stung knowing that the only love Vegeta had ever felt was ripped away from him at such a young age. Vegeta tore himself away from his mother, unable to withstand the pain of seeing what he could never have again. The visions evaporated as he focused on Bulma with hard eyes. Shaken and angry at himself, Vegeta was visibly distraught at being forced to face his biggest failure: his inability to prevent the deaths of his innocent mother and young, arranged suitor.

"It didn't take long for others to learn of our planet's natives' fall," Vegeta spoke through gritted teeth, eager to shift the subject from his heartbreaking loss. "Frieza was intrigued by our capabilities. He subjugated us quite easily. My Father wasn't the strongest, but he would kill and die alike for his people. His honor surpassed all others'. I wish I had known that, then."

The red sky above them darkened to a deep, inky maroon. Swirling vortexes of pink clouds and sickeningly yellow splotches churned in various vortexes, the wind whipping about them as a storm brewed itself from nothingness. The weather was mimicking Vegeta's emotions, a swirling and unsteady fabrication of his rage and regret and sadness.

"The Saiyan resistance to Frieza was futile, and Frieza was not one to be merciful. I watched as my race dwindled at his hand. Still, he needed the Saiyans to do his bidding. He'd rid himself of his previous brigade of supporters when they turned against him, as they always do. He needed us to kill for him, ravage planets for him and aid him in his endeavor to rule the universe. So… to force a king that feared nothing into submission, Frieza had to take from my father the thing he was most proud of in exchange for the lives within his entire kingdom."

The thought of such a young child, sold in bondage for the greater good, was unbearable. It was unfathomable, a father giving up his own son. At one point, as far as she could remember, Vegeta had blamed his father and refused to mourn him. How heavy the burden of truth must have felt when Vegeta learned that his father was forced to hand his son over, and to the very demon that destroyed their home. Bulma didn't hide her emotion, not this time, as she met Vegeta's hardened stare. She gasped when two sets of eyes glared back at her: Vegeta's dark, somber ones, and murderous, maniacal red ones. Just behind Vegeta, Frieza had materialized before a kneeling King Vegeta. Frieza gripped young Vegeta's lifeless form by the nape of his Saiyan armor, already bestowed upon him at age five like all young Saiyan warriors. He was suspended above the king like a prize catch, and although blood dripped from his lips, his chest still rose and fell with the slightest of breaths.

"When my father went to battle, I followed. I wanted to be useful. I wanted to prove to my father that I was as good and as strong as he wished for me to be. The last time I saw his face, he was on his knees. I'd left my mother alone to die for nothing." Vegeta turned and before he could lay his eyes on the image of Frieza, it vanished. "Frieza beat me within an inch of my life, and when I awoke, I was left to rot in a cell."

The world around them went black, the terrain suddenly converting into a cold, solid floor. Bulma jumped, scampering toward Vegeta and clinging to him despite his usual resistance to being touched. "Get ahold of yourself, woman. You know none of this is real." Bulma forced herself to breathe, but wouldn't let go of him. She couldn't get the image of Frieza out of her head, the nightmare on Namek replaying incessantly. To her surprise, Vegeta did not pull away from her, either. "Do you fear the dark?"

"No," Bulma spat out, embarrassed. "This… this is just a lot to take in, ya know."

Vegeta laughed callously. "What little I have told you, scares you? Worse is coming." Bulma looked up to meet his eyes, his expression grave. "You think you can accept me for who I am just because I have helped your weak, idiotic friends. I doubt you will, if you wish for me to continue."

Bulma hesitated, unsure if he expected an answer. She was not about to let him win, to think she was a coward for forcing him into this task and not seeing it through to the end, herself. To Vegeta's dismay, Bulma's fingertips brushed his cheek, only to tap a button on the side of the scouter he wore. Coding flashed alongside a checkmark, and Bulma nodded.

"It's still recording, we're good to go."

Vegeta smirked at the Earthling woman's tenacity. "As you wish."

Though the stadium remained an endless, dark abyss, a small light glimmered to life just over Vegeta's shoulder, illuminating the form of young Vegeta. A chain linked around his neck, restraining him to the floor in a kneeling position. Frieza appeared, standing over the boy and releasing him from his shackles. Young Vegeta looked as if he wanted to tackle the demonic alien, his jaw clenching as he struggled to lift his weak body from the floor. Frieza backhanded him, sending him crashing into the wall of the spaceship that was slowly materializing. Frieza's voice reverberated around them, the strength of Vegeta's visions growing stronger as his memories gained more substance. These memories, the ones he lived through and were not just his own retelling of legends passed along, had the ability to change the weather, create tangible forms, and produce the most chilling of sounds.

 _"Do not defy me, you little pest."_ The sound of Frieza's voice cooled the blood in Bulma's veins. Young Vegeta quivered, though the hatred evident in his small face was stronger than his fear. Frieza smiled a taunting, sickening smile. _"You will call me Master, and you will come to love me. Your insolent father gave you to me so willingly. No sooner did I ask for you, he gave you to me. Do you understand? You are mine, now."_ Frieza laughed a slow, gurgling laugh. _"Your mother was a different story. She fought for you until she took her last breath, when I crushed her feeble skull."_

Tears streamed down young Vegeta's cheeks, his mouth agape in horror. Gripping the wall of the spacecraft, he propelled himself forward, howling a painful, gut-wrenching scream and leaping toward Frieza. Frieza's tail whipped around them, catching young Vegeta in mid air and winding around his neck. The tail began slowly constricting his airwaves as the boy clawed for release. Frieza relished in his suffering for a moment, laughing cruelly before slamming him back against the wall at eye level. Nose to nose with the small Saiyan, Frieza hissed in his ear. _"I will wrench the insubordination from your bones, and you will serve me. There is no end to this hell for you."_

With the last bit of strength young Vegeta could muster, a ball of energy barely the size of a softball formed at his palm. His arm jutted forward, releasing the ball in Frieza's face and leaving a smoldering scar upon his cheek. Startled by the child's sudden ability to generate energy into an attack, something he had yet to see from any Saiyan child since his arrival on the planet, Frieza dropped Vegeta's now limp body to the ground.

"It was then he realized the prophecy he'd heard about my race was true. That bringing a Saiyan to the brink of death would only increase our power. I was the first of my race to experience this prodigal ability at that early of an age; and within a day, I had faced death twice."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Okay, I am SO PROUD of my vegetable pun for Kaila's name! :D My amusement of it is endless. :D Although, I'm not a big fan of kale…  
Our time with Vegeta's mother and Kaila was fleeting. Not much information came about regarding them... For now.**

 **Why is "evil" so much fun to write? I swear I'm a nice person! :O**

 **I'm excited to say that writing has begun for Part 2 of this series. Part 1 (what you are currently reading) is the foundation to what's in store for at** ** _least_** **two more parts. And heck yes, there will be more sci-fi-ness as we go! Bulma's innovative, scientific mind alongside Vegeta's intelligence and vast experience must be capitalized upon.**

 **As always, THANK YOU for reading and reviewing. It certainly encourages me to continue, so I am grateful!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Special thanks to those who reviewed, but especially to wbss21. Literally, your comment described exactly what I was trying to accomplish with this story. You are the reason I am posting this update.**

 **Chapter Five**

* * *

Bulma wished the image of Vegeta's young, broken body would vanish from view, but he and the darkness of the cell remained. The surging emotions of watching such a small child face terrifying abuse made her want to squeeze her eyes shut, drown in her guilt for the prince, and call the whole project off. Her heart and her determination to share his story, however, willed her forward. All the negative assumptions, the harsh judgments made upon the Saiyan prince filled her mind and strengthened her resolve. Vegeta watched incredulously as Bulma went to the materialized form of his young self, kneeling beside him and resting a soft hand against his wet, tear stained cheek. She knew it could bring the unreal little thing no comfort. It was just a figment of Vegeta's imagination, albeit a very real, very tangible one. Nurturing the boy brought _her_ comfort.

"It continued like this," Vegeta continued, forcing his mind away from the image of his small, crumpled body and thus causing it to disappear beneath Bulma's caring hands. "Frieza vowed to beat me into subservience, because there was another prophecy that he feared. The legend of the Super Saiyan that would rise in power and destroy him. So naturally, when my father rallied his elite soldiers once more to put a stop to Frieza and regain his son, Frieza did not hesitate in killing him and the rest of my people. I did not learn of my father's last stand until later, and I had started to believe Frieza's lies that my own father would abandon me so willingly."

"How did you find out?" Bulma's voice was hoarse, and she almost couldn't form the words. The powerful reenactments playing out before her were draining, but she felt empowered to continue listening and internalizing every single emotion. If Vegeta had to live it, the least she could do was listen.

"Frieza was fearful of what I could become. I exhibited power that surprised him. I was small and near death, yet could muster such energy… He knew, then, that the legend would not be realized by the other Saiyans that were spared from my planet's eradication."

"Raditz and Nappa…" Bulma could never forget the team's first encounter with the Saiyans. How terrifying they had been, and how sad that Goku would meet a brother he never knew he had, only for evil to take him away. It was obvious now that the mindless, pure evil they had labeled those Saiyans as, was not so blindly true.

"I did not know they were alive for so long. Frieza wanted me isolated, to break me and bring me to my knees. He wanted me to beg for some sort of hope, but hope was lost to me, and he saw this. When he revealed Raditz and Nappa to me, I barely knew them to begin with. Raditz was Kaila's brother and a good warrior, and Nappa was one of my father's generals. Unfortunately for them, Frieza knew they were too weak to fulfill the prophecy and were expendable. Even my own power as a child rivaled theirs. He united us to use them against me, threatening to kill the last of my brethren if I didn't do as he asked. It was Nappa who told me of what happened with my father. How he died..."

Hearing about Raditz and Nappa brought Gohan's retelling of the incidents on Namek to Bulma's thoughts, when Vegeta had appealed to Goku with his last, dying breaths. How Vegeta had agreed to do everything Frieza asked, or else Frieza would kill the king. How he swallowed his pride and did just that, just for Frieza to murder his father anyway.

"I was a fool to believe Frieza, to believe that my own father would forsake me." Vegeta's face lowered, his eyes closing and his fists raising at his sides. "I owe my father my life. Even when I would rather have found honor in death while serving Frieza. I was alive to make that decision. It was then that I vowed to not only avenge my father, but to never take the title of King."

Bulma blinked. "I'd always wondered about that. Why you retained the title of Prince, even when it was just you and Goku left."

Vegeta didn't respond. He removed the scouter, inspecting it. The stadium's darkness immediately lifted, returning the environment to the peaceful, albeit blood red scenery of Planet Vegeta. A soft breeze returned and Bulma realized that when Vegeta had been envisioning Frieza's spacecraft, all wind and ambiance had been silenced as if they were stuck inside a vacuum. Having experienced everything in those preceding moments, it was easy, then, to appreciate the beauty of the lost planet. The rough terrain didn't seem so harsh anymore, with patches of green and wild flowers Bulma could not name snaking their way up through crevices and plateaus. Off in the distance, if she squinted, Bulma could make out water sparkling in fractals in the sunlight. Realizing they had not moved far from the door through which they entered, Bulma looked thoughtfully at Vegeta.

"Have you explored in here yet?"

Vegeta frowned, scanning the terrain with experienced eyes. "I know this planet like the back of my hand. What is there to explore?"

Bulma hadn't thought of that. In her excitement to give what she thought was an incredible gift to Vegeta, she didn't consider that he may not appreciate seeing the dead planet again. Yes, it was a risk in hindsight, that he could have been angry or resentful to see this fake façade of his home… but seeing his expression soften while scanning the horizon, and lifting his face to the sun that felt just slightly different, but different enough, than it did on Earth… she knew she'd made the right decision. "Well, _I_ haven't seen it yet."

To her surprise, Vegeta looked at her for just a moment, studying her sincerity. He started walking further into the stadium, leading her deeper into the unknown world around her. Planet Vegeta was unlike anything she had ever seen. Gravel crunched under their feet and the sun was falling into a brilliant, violet sunset. Bulma's eyes locked again onto the distant lake, reflecting the pink clouds. It's waters played off the dying sunlight beneath a warm, velvety sky that was complemented by green fields sporadically roaming along dusty terrains.

Beside her, Vegeta voiced his disapproval for slow, idle walks with an annoyed grunt. Before she could protest, Bulma felt an arm grip her around her waist and, in the blink of an eye, they were zooming through the red and maroon and violet sunset. Her blue hair whipping around her cheeks and the force of the breeze magnified in flight, Bulma buried her face into the crook of Vegeta's neck and held on for dear life. A soft chuckle of amusement rumbled in Vegeta's throat, drawing a smile to Bulma's lips. Allowing her grip to loosen in trust, she let her fingers splay along his strong shoulders and fluttered her eyelashes against his skin. 'Safe' didn't begin to describe how she felt with this volatile warrior prince. Held in his vice-like embrace and soaring weightlessly through the blushing sky, Bulma felt empowered.

The wind died down and the world stopped moving, so Bulma reluctantly released her hold on Vegeta's shoulders. When his grip around her waist hesitated a moment before it, too, fell away, Bulma's heart fluttered. Pulling herself together, her eyes drank in the sight of the lake at her feet. They'd landed right at the shoreline within a break of cattail-like stems sprouting all around. The fuzz that clung to the large, pillowy stamens broke loose and fluttered along the shifting breeze, dancing like soft snowflakes. They floated out onto the gently lapping water and dotted its surface, reflecting the warm tones of the sunset like fireflies.

"This is what you were looking for?" Vegeta broke her reverie, looking thoughtfully out at the lake. Bulma blushed, suddenly and embarrassingly aware that he had been watching her admire the water from afar. She obliged his question with a nod as she kicked off her sandals and tiptoed into the cool, cleansing water. It felt so real, and once again she marveled at her own ingenuity. She could create something from nothing, and yet… There was a lot she was looking for, if she were being honest with herself. A lot that she wanted for herself, for others… She didn't expect to find so much of it there in a virtual reality chamber. Things were so different within the world she never knew. Realities shifted, and so did her understanding. She suddenly feared it would all change the moment they stepped through that single, floating door and back into _true_ reality. Bulma glanced back at Vegeta who had quickly gotten his fill of admiring the lake and was scrutinizing the scouter lens in his hands. The last thing she wanted was for him to close himself off again, to leave and forget what he was suddenly, impossibly sharing with her.

He, of course, was oblivious to the thoughts running through Bulma's mind. Repositioning the scouter over his ear, disgust marred his sharp features. "I was ordered to use these under Frieza. He could watch my every move and hear every word with this. I was happy to rid myself of it."

'Ordered' was not a word often associated with Vegeta, unless he was the one doing the ordering. To be driven down and enslaved by the very… _thing_ that murdered his family would be unbearable. Losing his family, let alone a planet or entire race of people, and then trying to find any trace of hope would have been unimaginable. "How did you get through it?"

Vegeta frowned at her like she was asking the most ludicrous question. "I survived. I followed orders and was ruthless like he wanted me to be. I listened to his drivel and accepted it as my purpose, because what else did I have. If I did not perform for him, I was useless. And I performed well."

"What… did you do well?" Bulma was afraid of his answer, although she knew what was coming. Crouching and allowing the cool water to kiss her knees, she swirled a finger in her reflection, a halo circling around her mirrored image. The ripples distorted her reflection and she couldn't see herself anymore. What she knew to be _her_ was lost as the ripples spun and dimmed beneath the ever-darkening sky.

"I was enlisted in missions to test my obedience, sent to planets that were just strong enough to fall to me, but too weak to truly challenge me. I was given the same expectation of all of his soldiers: enslave the inhabitants, annihilate the resistance, destroy the planet if I must."

The butterflies Bulma had entertained with the prince's touch, the headiness of their embrace in flight, slipped away and drowned in the sudden bad feeling Bulma had. Designed to create tangible objects and entities from Vegeta's thoughts, she had been weary of the stadium's reaction when he started telling the story of the planet's original civil war. Nothing had materialized, the memory too weak for Vegeta as it was one he had not personally experienced. But now, with his story turning to one of which he headlined…

Bulma screamed as the pool in which she knelt in changed from its warm reflection of the sky to a thick, hot, crimson substance. The lake condensed into a shallow pool right before them, the surrounding perimeter dotted with corpses. Rivers of hot, red blood flooded from their broken humanoid bodies into the pool.

Scrambling away from the carnage, Bulma darted to Vegeta's side. His stance had changed and his guard was up as he looked about. Scanning the shifting, metamorphosing plains, he growled through clenched teeth, "We are not on Planet Vegeta any longer." The setting sun of Planet Vegeta was gone and the atmosphere around them dimmed, the only light coming from sporadic flashes in the distance. Droning sounds whizzed all around them. Bloodstained terrain grew foot by foot, extending for miles in every direction. Vegeta positioned himself in front of Bulma, his eyes never leaving the light flares that threatened closer and closer.

"You want the whole story, woman?"

His words were hissed like a warning through a guarded, clenched jaw, and Bulma was instantly unsure. The slain bodies before them were indeed humanoid but still alien and unrecognizable to the scientist. Judging by the arc Vegeta's story took, they were in the midst of a battle he himself had waged under Frieza's will on an innocent, unsuspecting planet.

Before she could answer, a hailstorm of energy pelted the earth around them, raising clouds of dust and debris as they incinerated the gravel. Another scream was locked in Bulma's throat, jarred loose when Vegeta clutched at her wrist and threw her beneath him. His body arched around her, shielding her from the raining blasts. To her dismay, she smelled the burning of his bodysuit beneath the attack, the material eating away even further. Vegeta's memories of this particular battle were so strong that the attacks were as palpable as the landscapes and beings he had created. Peeking up at her protector, Bulma was relieved to see Vegeta's unaffected expression as he simply continued to take the brunt of the assault. Was he punishing himself by reliving the pain he caused?

 _"Do not think that your insolence will go unreported, monkey."_ The hissing, reptilian voice was not one that Bulma recognized, but was indeed one that elicited a snarling response from Vegeta. The assailing energy balls ceased and Vegeta stood with hands fisted and eyes infuriated slits. Bulma followed his glare to a reptilian creature that materialized out of the dust the assault had kicked up. The dust continued to swirl, revealing a teenage Vegeta seated upon a crag of rock, splattered in blood. His forearm rested on his knee, static sparking between his fingertips in subtle restraint. It was obvious that he was itching to blast the reptilian into nothingness.

The alien went toe to toe with the younger Vegeta, who looked almost identical to his current form. His face was softer, not yet hardened by years of subjugation and battle, yet still hard enough, having seen more than a young man his age _should_ see. The alien grasped the nape of his armor in his hands and pulled Vegeta's face to his. _"You allowed those weaklings to attack us first. Tell me why I shouldn't practice 'eye for an eye' with your worthless carcass."_

The teenage Vegeta sneered back at the reptile, backhanding its grip away from his neck. _"We will dominate this race easily. It is only honorable to allow them a chance to fight for themselves."_ Vegeta spat at the ground near the reptile's feet. _"Report me to Frieza, and join me in punishment for laying a hand on his favorite warrior."_

Surprisingly, Frieza's soldier backed off, but not before spitting on his fellow soldier and laughing as he retreated back into battle. Seething, the teenage Vegeta's energy flared around him, but distracted himself by turning his attention to the corpses of the fallen. Bowing deeply, the Saiyan prince blasted a deep hole into the ground. Bulma watched with baited breath as the apparition pushed each corpse into the mass grave and buried them, just as his ancestors had done in their civil war. Their influence still pulsed within Vegeta's veins, even without their presence, and even within his current, futile reality.

The world around them ripped away without notice, leaving a vacuum of silence. Only they and the teenage Vegeta remained, watching each other like mirrored images. Pseudo-Vegeta was unmoving, an expression of rage upon his features. His suddenly weak and bloodied hands clutched the bottom of his breastplate adorned with Frieza's insignia. He pulled it over his head and stared at it with disgust before hurling it into a row of lockers which materialized within the darkness. A common room began to form around them, lockers and benches and faucets sprouting along its walls. It was large enough to house fifty men. The floors were stained with green and burgundy splotches that Bulma did not wish to know the source of. She watched in horror as the teenage Vegeta caught her attention again, deep lines patterning themselves along his skin. The angry red cuts sketched themselves and burned away more of his bodysuit as they progressed, fresh and seeping. His chest and back looked like a tapestry of scars and blood smeared like war paint down his abdomen. They were not the scars of battle, but the deep, purposeful scars of torture.

"You were punished," Bulma's realization came at a whisper, because just as she was thankful that Vegeta did not show her how his punishment took place, the resulting image was no better. The young Vegeta righted himself and took on a fighting stance the best that he could, his eyes darting around in suspense. An array of soldiers of different species surrounded him, headed by the reptilian, armored creature who had fronted him on the battlefield. He, too, was bleeding from obvious Frieza-inflicted torture but to just a fraction of the degree the Saiyan had been afflicted.

"I had to be broken."

A fist collided with young Vegeta's jaw, sending a spray of blood from his lips. Weakened from the hours of punishment by Frieza's hand, the proud Saiyan swayed and stumbled to one knee. Immediately forcing himself back upright, static splayed at his fingertips only to be quelled as another punch matched the first and drove him back down before the laughing reptile.

 _"I don't care that your Lord Frieza's favorite play thing. I will do him a favor and rid his presence of your failure."_

A raspy, coldblooded laugh rumbled from young Vegeta's throat before his hands shot forward, the static at his palms erupting into a flare of energy that dissolved the reptile into oblivion. The soldiers surrounding him fell back, silent and confused at the sudden sway in power. Young Vegeta stood and met eyes with every last one of them, daring them to step into their now deceased pack leader's shoes. None did so, and the shade of Vegeta smiled that cold, merciless smile that Bulma wished she could forget.

"He was proud, the sick bastard," Vegeta muttered through grit teeth. It took a minute for Bulma to deduce that he referred to Frieza and not himself. "I destroyed one of his generals, and he praised me for it. He even killed every one of those soldiers that backed him. He was proud of the ruthlessness and lack of mercy I showed, and he thought he had finally succeeded in truly enslaving me to his will."

Bulma's eyes were wide. "… Did he?" She wanted to believe that Vegeta resisted to the end, but she knew the whole story. She knew what logically came next, and she found herself pointlessly praying for her own memories to deceive her. He would go to Earth and meet Goku, and the rest was history. Gohan's recounting of the incidents on Namek flooded her mind. Goku had seen through Vegeta's evil exterior before anyone else had. He had recognized that the Saiyan prince was not as coldhearted as even Vegeta thought himself to be. Vegeta had saved Gohan's life, despite having been molded into the severe, unfeeling harbinger of destruction that Frieza wanted him to be. Since the innocent age of five, Vegeta was never given the chance to be anything else.

"'A heart of stone can't shed tears like you did. You must have been holding them back your whole life.'" Bulma recited Goku's words to Vegeta's lifeless body on Namek. Vegeta cringed. His rival bore witness to the weakest he'd ever allowed himself to be. He had never cried, not even when he was taken as a child under the thumb of a murderous dictator, or when he learned of his beloved mother's demise. Not when he was tortured and isolated and robbed of all hope. Tears were only shed at the realization that, in death, he would not be the one to destroy Frieza. That his life had meant nothing.

Vegeta removed the scouter once again, his knuckles white as he clutched it. Bulma feared that in his disgust, he would crush the device into powder, but he instead pushed them into her hands. "It is a cruel thing you have done, forcing a man to relive the treachery of his past."

Finally, boundless and unrestrained tears spilled from Bulma's eyes and streaked down her cheeks, the dust from battle disappearing alongside the haunting visions of a historical play. Now everything made sense.

"Vegeta, you relive it every day, anyway."

* * *

 **Author's Note: I think he's seen enough. D: But has the Saiyan shown too much? Guess we'll see!**

 **As always, thank you for reading and reviewing.**


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